


On the road

by EvilDarkLady



Series: A new start [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Series Finale, Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilDarkLady/pseuds/EvilDarkLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale. House and Wilson have started their trip. Takes into account the events that took place in "A new start". Not a deathfic. Warnings: slash, series finale spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I only write for fun.
> 
> Warnings: Pre-slash. Slash on later chapters.
> 
> Although this fic can be read alone, I've included references to my fic "A new start". So, if you haven't read it, you can find some facts described here that don't relate to anything that happened in the broadcasted episodes of the finale. They just belong to that fic.
> 
> As always, I thank my beta TrenchcoatsAreSexy for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's.

"I feel like swimming," Wilson said, looking at the clear water of the river. They were only in the first days of June, but it was a very warm day.

A few minutes before, they had stopped on the shore of a small river that flowed next to the road. Wilson had deemed it as the ideal place to eat the sandwiches they had bought earlier in the morning.

"We don't have swimsuits," House stated, shrugging. He was seated on a big rock, placed under the shadow of a tree.

"We don't need them." Wilson dismissed House's objection.

"You don't plan on swimming naked, do you?" The diagnostician seemed a little disturbed by the idea.

"No, of course not!" Wilson said, as disturbed as his friend. "Although we are alone at the moment, there's a chance that somebody could pass by and see us. We'll swim with our boxers on."

"You mean that somebody could see _you_. I don't plan on swimming," House stated matter-of- factly.

"Oh! Come on, House! Be a little more adventurous." Wilson half-pouted, and House suddenly felt uncomfortable at the realization that the thought that had popped in his mind at the sight had been 'adorable'. "This is a spontaneous, carefree thing. I'm surprised you aren't jumping at the idea of a little fun."

"Your idea of fun and mine differ by a wide shot," House said, deadpan, at the same time that a scowl was shown on his face. "What would you do afterwards: put your pants on over your soaked boxers? Good idea, if you want to catch a bad cold. That certainly would sit very well to your little friend in your chest," House quipped with sarcasm dripping from his voice. Wilson made a face at House's tasteless joke.

"No, of course, not. I'll just go commando." Wilson answered, dismissing his urge to lash back with some other nastiness.

House didn't say anything else, but the grimace that crossed his face for a second was enough for Wilson to realize that his comment had upset his friend, although he couldn't understand why.

"What is it, House?" Wilson asked, concerned.

"Nothing, Wilson," House dismissed, his face a blank mask.

The oncologist crouched down in front of his friend, so as to keep their gazes at the same level. He wondered briefly why he had chosen to do something that could anger the diagnostician. Thinking of it, it was the way people talked to children and, although his friend was way past his fifties, in a way, House was like a child sometimes, so it only seemed fitting.

"It's something, House. I can see it. Whatever is it, what I've said has upset you." Wilson went to put his hand over House's, but, after a brief hesitation, he decided against it. "Why can't you tell me what's nagging at you?" He briefly wondered why he bothered. It wasn't like House to share his thoughts if they were related to something emotional.

"I've told you it's nothing. Just bad memories from a long time ago," the diagnostician said with a tight voice.

Wilson sighed. So, his comment had triggered unpleasant memories. And he had the unwelcome feeling that it had to do with his friend's late father.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, concerned. Wilson knew again that it was a stupid question, because he was sure what the answer was going to be. But he had felt compelled to ask it all the same.

"No, I don't." It was an expected answer from House.

Wilson stood up and started to unbutton his shirt, when House's strained voice astonished him.

"I was nine years old and I had gone with a few kids to play near a river-." House's narration was interrupted by a surprised Wilson.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't want, but I have to." House sighed heavily and looked at his friend just for a second.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. He was at a loss here, for House was acting a bit... non-House-like, lately. In fact, he had been acting strange since his 'death'. _Although some things never change,_ Wilson corrected himself a second after when he saw his friend reaching his pocket and taking an orange vial of pills. House dropped two small white pills on his hand and dry-swallowed them.

House really didn't want to talk about his childhood. It would mean dealing with strong emotions. Not really his choice subject for a talk. In fact, he wanted to avoid it like hell. But he felt that, if he really wanted to change, as he had promised to himself in that warehouse, he should start by opening a bit, sharing his emotions and feelings with his friend, as hard as that could be. Of course, he was going to share just that, a bit, for he wasn't trying to become a male version of Cameron. House took Wilson's silence as an invitation to continue.

"It was summer and we'd been playing on the sun for a few hours It was too hot and one kid suggested swimming in the river. I made a similar objection to the one I've made to you about the swimsuits. But he just laughed and answered that we were going to swim with our underwear on. But, when we get out from the river it was obvious we just couldn't put our trousers on. So, we went commando."

House took a shuddering breath. That had been the easy part. But the next... He almost jumped when he felt Wilson's hand upon his and saw his friend crouched down again, looking at him with a sympathetic gaze that he hated in other people, but warmed him when coming from Wilson, as long as it wasn't pity. Although, of course, he had always made his friend believe that not even sympathy was welcomed. Not that it had stopped Wilson from showing it.

"I hadn't thought anything of it. It had seemed so natural, so innocent..." His gaze hardened and his voice seemed even more strained, sharper. "It had been innocent till my father noticed it. He got mad and I knew I was in big trouble. He told me that it wasn't proper for me to go around without my underwear on. That only faggots went around like that... Fuck him, Wilson. It was stupid. _He_ was stupid. Then, I didn't even knew what that word meant. Then, he asked me, all the same, if I wanted for people to think I was a faggot."

House looked away and tried to control the trembling that was threatening to overcome him. When he thought he had succeeded, he resumed his narrative, even if he was avoiding eye contact with his friend.

"By then, I had long learned what my answers to his questions must be, even if I didn't understand them. So I told him that no, that I didn't want that. And then, he..." He trailed off and closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories that flooded him. That was why he had never wanted to talk about his childhood, because it was like opening the Pandora's box.

"It's okay, House. You don't have to explain it to me. If you don't want to swim it's okay with me." Wilson told his friend seeing him struggling with his emotions and not liking at all where that story was heading.

_Yes, enough is enough_ , House thought. Even more, because it was the first time he had opened up to his friend. So he looked again at Wilson and gave him a weak smile that didn't reached his eyes.

"Well, let's say that that day I learnt that going commando was a bad idea. I got a pretty hard negative conditioning from him." House's voice was full of contempt.

Wilson swallowed the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he felt so cold. He could see what House wasn't saying. After John's funeral, he had started to suspect that House had been an abused child, although he hadn't been able to confirm it. Till right now.

"Did.. did he... touch you?" Wilson asked, needing to know, but dreading the answer all the same.

"Not in the way you're thinking about," House hurried to reassure his friend, knowing what direction his thoughts had followed. His voice was still full of hatred. "But that doesn't mean that I got it easy at all. He had a lot of experience in disciplining the men under his orders, after all."

Wilson repressed a shudder. He had seen a lot of military films where officials disciplined their men in very cruel ways. The thought of some of those punishments being inflicted on a nine-year-old boy seemed ruthless, even more when that punishment had been exacted by a father upon his son because of a ludicrous belief. He felt the guilt creeping on him.

"It was wrong forcing you to go to his funeral. I'm sorry," he said remorsefully and gripped the hand that was still under his own.

"Don't be. I'm glad you did it." Surprisingly, House somehow seemed a bit less gloomy.

"Did you really want to go to his funeral?" Wilson asked, bewildered. After what he had just explained him and all the grief House had put him through in that journey, he couldn't believe that his friend had really wanted to go.

"Of course not! I would have preferred to do clinic than going to his funeral," House stated fiercely. Wilson raised an eyebrow. That was a lot to say, having in mind what his friend's love for clinic duty was.

"Then, why have you said-"

"It made you to came back to me." House didn't let Wilson finish his question.

Wilson looked at House with a mix of surprise and affection. That was possibly the most sincere declaration of love that House could utter. He didn't expect for House to tell him openly what his feelings were, but that single sentence had told him enough.

"You know he was wrong, don't you? His statement about going commando was a complete shit," Wilson said while looking at his friend with the same clear affection that was tinging his voice.

"I know." House answered simply.

"Then, are you going to swim with me?" Wilson asked hopefully. He wanted to enjoy things, but more than everything else, he wanted to enjoy them with House.

"Nope."

"But, you've just agreed that his statement was..." Wilson was puzzled about the seemingly contradiction.

"It has nothing to do with him. I wasn't going to swim before you said that," House said with a hint of frustration in his voice. Why couldn't Wilson leave it alone?

"Why?" Wilson was suspicious. He didn't believe House completely. He couldn't have any other reason to not swim. Or could he?

"The water is cold."

That statement in anybody else could have earned a mocking reaction, but Wilson knew better than mocking his friend because of that. Cold always worsened his friend's pain and he had noticed that, lately, House seemed to be in more pain than usual, although his friend negated it. Wilson was quite sure that going a large part of the day on the bike was to blame, so he had started to make some stops in the middle of the ride: to buy some sandwiches, to see some beautiful landscape, to swim,... It didn't matter to Wilson if any of them earned him a mock from his friend: any excuse was good if it allowed House's leg to have a rest.

"Do you mind if I swim?"

"Of course not."

Wilson nodded and smiled gratefully at House. He stand up and went a few steps away from his friend. He started to undress and House found himself staring at Wilson. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. Since the car argument, back in Princeton, he couldn't avoid looking at his friend, wondering if things could go beyond the friendship they shared, but dreading it altogether.

He could clearly remember the night they had spent in his bed, before everything blew up. He could remember how he had been thinking about the possibility of furthering their relationship and how that could make it worse when Wilson... House shut briefly his eyes. No. He didn't want to think about that, so he kept thinking on that night shared in his bed.

Nothing had happened then, but it had felt so wonderful just the joining of their hands. He sighed. The next morning, the hospital lawyer had come with Foreman to tell him he had to go to prison again. He had been so desperate to avoid it, to not waste his friend's last months away from him in jail, but in his usual inane way he had burned all his bridges with Foreman and with Wilson, too. Then desperation had took him in and everything else was a blur.

Afterwards, since the beginning of their trip, their relationship was a little strained again. Yes, there was that new closeness between them, but it was more restrained than in the apartment. It was as if they were too afraid to let them go, for fear of being hurt. House could also detect a bit of resentment in Wilson about him faking his death, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the reasons for that resentment. So he kept silent about it.

He realized that Wilson had noticed the stare, and was showing the discomfort at being observed. He didn't want his friend to recognize his true reasons for looking at him, so he did as usual: he deflected.

"I think this trip is making you to gain some pounds. Even from here, I can see some more spare tires than before," House said mockingly, but burying under that mocking tone his own embarrassment.

Wilson rolled his eyes and turned away towards the water, while muttering something that sounded like "that's a fucking lie."

House tried not to stare too much at his friend while he was swimming, but when he finally emerged from the waters, he couldn't help it. With the sun tinging his skin with golden shades and his wet hair clinging from his head, Wilson was a vision to behold.

"Oh, come on, House. Don't start again. I haven't gained weight." Wilson said exasperated.

He started to strip off his underwear, oblivious to the commotion his actions were causing his friend. House stood up quickly, more quickly than a cripple should, and started to go to the forest in front of Wilson.

"What happened?" Wilson asked, worried by the suddenness of his friend's movement.

"I have to pee. Unless you want me to do a show of it for you." House said in a strained voice. He left before Wilson could say anything else.

When he was out of Wilson's sight, he leaned against a tree. He sighed. What was wrong with him? He was attracted to Wilson. Yes, nothing new with that. He also had seen his friend naked before and that had never caused such impact on him. Why now? Again, he knew that the car conversation had had a big impact in their relationship, but he had never guessed how much . Perhaps, it was because before he had thought that Wilson would never welcome him stepping forward, but now it was a real possibility, not just an impossible dream.

For a couple of minutes, he stayed there, against the tree. However, he realized that he had to go back or Wilson would go searching for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a very short chapter, but it felt like the best place to end it.
> 
> I forgot to explain in the first chapter that in this series post-finale I've created, House had taken a new identity. He has chosen the name Ben Evans. Why? Well, Ben it's my homage to my other beloved fandom: Star Wars. I took the name from Ben (Obi-Wan) Kenobi. And Evans... well, does anybody guess why House would choose such a surname? The answer in the next chapter.

They arrived at a road motel, half an hour later. The receptionist told them that they only had one room, with just one double bed.

_Just perfect!_ House thought while rolling his eyes. Sleeping with Wilson in the same bed was exactly what he didn't need, because he had the image of him getting out of the water still imprinted in his mind.

"That's okay," Wilson said, surprising his friend. Although the surprise was short-lived when he heard his next statement. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'm afraid the couch is not fitted for somebody to sleep on it. It's too small," the receptionist said.

Wilson seemed to ponder this and, then, turned to his friend.

"Perhaps we should continue our trip till the next motel," he said, rubbing his neck.

House looked at him with a clinical eye. There were two situations in which the oncologist rubbed his neck: when he was upset or when he was tired. Either way, it seemed that Wilson wasn't very fond of resuming their trip for a few more miles that day. In fact, if he was honest, he had to acknowledge that he wasn't very fond either.

"It's only one night, Wilson. I suppose we can manage." House said while forcing himself not to look away.

"Are you sure, Hou... Ben?" Wilson was still having a hard time calling his friend by his new name and it didn't help that while in private he was using his old one. House glared at him for the almost slip.

"I'm sure. As long as you don't kick me off the bed. It wouldn't sit well with my leg," House answered dryly. Sarcasm always helped when he felt awkward.

"We'll take it." Wilson told the receptionist, who looked at them doubtfully.

"Well, if you change your opinion after seeing the room, you can give me back the key and I won't charge you anything," she said.

House eyed her suspiciously. He was almost positive that she wasn't telling them something. They discovered it upon entering the room.

"The receptionist's definition of a double bed it's a bit loose," Wilson said warily.

"It's... it's..." House was thunderstruck. There was no way they could lay in that bed together and avoid touching each other. Well, they could, but only if they kept very still.

"What do you think, House?" Wilson said while still looking at the bed. "I know it's not very big and that we are not going to be very comfortable, but..." he looked at House and made a pause long enough to gain his friend's complete attention. "I'm exhausted, Greg. I don't think I am able to take the bike to go to another motel. We should stay here this night, get as much rest as we can and, tomorrow, we'll make a short trip, just to found better accommodations. Then, we can do nothing the rest of the day, just rest in the room, watching TV."

"Okay," House said, trying to mask the discomfort he was feeling at that moment.

One hour after, they were laying in that bed. Wilson had fallen asleep almost instantly, which clearly showed how tired he was. But House was having a hard time trying to get some sleep, being so close to his friend, feeling his body's warmth.

House stared at his friend. God, he was so handsome. He realized that, aside from sensing his body's warmth, he could smell him at a such close distance. His friend smelled of leather and his cologne, but also of something that was unique Wilson. He closed his eyes and willed himself to other thoughts when he realized that his previous line of thought had had an effect in his lower abdomen.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes that immediately were drawn to his friend. Again. He sighed. It was going to be a long night, indeed.

At some point into the night, he allowed one of his hands to rest on one of Wilson's. It had helped to fall asleep some nights ago. He hoped it helped him again.

It did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the question I left in the air in the last chapter about House's new name: I suppose you know that Wilson's name is James Evan Wilson. So, House took Wilson's middle name and made it his surname, just to mess with him. Of course.
> 
> There's a very suggestive paragraph of sexual nature near the end of the chapter that made me wonder if I had to up the rating of this fic. In the end, I though it wasn't too explicit, so I left the rating as it is. But if you think I should have upped the rate of the fic because of that, tell me and I'll change it (I suppose I can do it).
> 
> As always, I thank my beta TrenchcoatsAreSexy for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's.

House woke up and he groggily tightened the grip on the body he was embracing. Almost instantly, all the sleepiness flew away and all his body tensed. He was spooning Wilson, his chest pressed on his friend's back, his right arm around Wilson's waist. But, the worst thing was that he was sporting a morning erection. Easy to explain, but embarrassing when the position they were in threatened to make the erection more prominent. He shifted his hips so he broke the contact between his groin and Wilson's ass.

Trying not to wake up Wilson, he started to remove very slowly his hand. But he froze when he found his hand being firmly held by other hand against Wilson's abdomen.

"Don't, please. It feels..." Wilson's voice was tinged with a touch of uncertainty while struggling to find the right words. "Nice... It makes me feel... protected and... alive".

House didn't say anything, but sighed and left his arm resting on Wilson's waist. Even if he was incapable of expressing his feelings verbally, it didn't mean that Wilson's need of his touch left him indifferent. In fact, the request had filled him with an equal feeling of joy and sadness. Joy, because his friend seemed to want him as near as possible. Sadness, because his words had reminded him about the short time together they had ahead.

He tried to relax while embracing the oncologist. At least, the thought of his friend's impending death had served to make him lose his erection, so he was feeling less awkward with the intimacy they were sharing at the moment.

However, ten minutes later, he felt a different urge and tried again to disentangle himself from Wilson.

"House, please, don't go..."

"I'm afraid I have no choice. I need to go to the bathroom." There was regret in House's voice and Wilson realized that his friend didn't want to move, but had to. He let go of House's hand and heard the movement at his back at the same time that he felt the cold seeping into his body at losing House's body warmth.

When he heard the bathroom door closing, he sat on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands. What was he doing? He had promised to himself not to encourage House into this changed relationship anymore. It wasn't fair to his friend. It would be selfish to allow this to progress when there was no future for them.

The morning after they had spent the night eating Oreos and sleeping in House's bed, he had allowed himself some hope about the time left. It was going to be a short time, but they could have lived it to the fullest. That would have included a physical relationship between them, had been House interested. Oh, and he now was sure his friend was interested, indeed. But destiny and House himself had played against them and his friend's parole had been revoked.

So, instead of spending the weekend together exploring their new relationship and making plans, his friend had gone missing and had avoided him completely.

The next Monday he had only seen him at lunch, when he had asked him to take the fall. It had been so difficult to deny it, to send him to jail again. But he had needed to do it, for House's sake.

And then, his friend had gone missing again.

The most crushing feeling he had ever felt had been witnessing the ceiling of the warehouse collapsing on House. He had never felt so lost, not even when Amber had died . Back then, House had been there for him, although, at the time, he had thought he didn't want him around anymore. At the warehouse, he had believed that the man he loved had died and he had nobody left. Nobody that really mattered, at least, and the feeling of loss had left him heartbroken.

Later, after discovering what House had done for him, he had realized how much he meant to his friend, but also how much his friend would suffer when his days were to come to an end. Then, with that discovery, he had come to the acknowledgement that he couldn't make things any worse for the diagnostician. He had promised himself not to do it.

He had seen his friend fighting the undeniable attraction they felt to each other. It was obvious that House was also aware that it would be a bad idea. However, each day passing it was getting harder and harder to not let himself be carried along by his feelings, and waking up embraced by those strong arms had melted his resolve for a while.

He needed to steel himself again against the feelings his friend elicited in him, and he knew exactly how to achieve it. He didn't like to delve into his resentments against the older man, especially not now, after all he had done to be with him, but that was the only thing that nowadays dampened his feelings successfully. Perhaps because it was very recent, so he hadn't had enough time to process everything.

House get out from the bathroom and noticed the change in his friend's mood as soon as they locked gazes. He felt his anger rising. Why was Wilson clinging to the past? Why couldn't he start anew, just as he was trying to do. Why couldn't he forgive him for anything he had done and give him a new chance?

"You resent me," House spat before he could help it. He turned around and went to the window.

Wilson winced upon hearing House's words. He wanted to quell his own attraction towards his friend, not to drive him away.

"No, I don't," he lied.

House shook his head and turned to look at Wilson. His anger had diminished when he had heard the sadness in Wilson's voice and, now, seeing the mixed emotions in his friend's eyes, he went to his side and seated next to him.

"Yes, you do," he said softly. "But we don't need to talk about that."

Wilson looked at him and as soon as they locked gazes, he knew he had to ask about what was nagging at him.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you let me grieve you for so long? Didn't you think it was causing me pain to think you dead? Or didn't you care that I was hurting?" Wilson asked with some of the resentment oozing from his voice. House looked at him, somewhat surprised. Of all the wrong things he had done in the past, was really that thing what kept them apart? Certainly, he hadn't liked causing pain to Wilson, but it had been a necessary evil and one that had helped them to stay together.

"I would have wanted to warn you before, but it would have jeopardized my plan." House had inadvertently put one hand on Wilson's knee, which had surprised the oncologist enough to stay silent. "But I had trained my team too well, and Chase, Taub and Foreman had known you for too long. Had you known about my non-death, you could have fooled my mom, Stacy, Dominika or some other people, but not my team nor Cameron. They could have guessed about my fake death just by looking at you. They're very perceptive and you're not such a great actor." House smirked, looking at his friend.

Wilson was at loss for words, for he knew House was right, and the knowledge that it had been just that what had kept him clueless made him be annoyed with himself instead with House. And that was making crumble the last barrier between them. He put one hand upon House's one resting on his knee. His friend gave a start and looked surprised at their hands, as he hadn't realized that he had rested his own hand on Wilson's knee. Now that he knew, he felt remiss to loss the contact, although a part of himself was shouting at him to quit the hand if he wanted to keep the distances with his friend. Instead of that, he shifted his hand and they ended interlacing fingers. House sighed and looked at his friend, who was looking at their joined hands with something akin of wonder.

"Wilson," he said softly, and the younger man looked at him with such mix of emotions displayed on his eyes, that House had to do a considerate effort to refrain himself from kissing his friend. He gulped and resumed his explanation with a strained voice. "As it was, I ended telling you before I had planned. I had intended to warn you when the funeral had ended. But I couldn't wait. When I heard you talking about me like that at the funeral, I understood how deep it run your grief. And I had to warn you, right then. I couldn't let you go on grieving me. I couldn't let you be in pain anymore. So I texted you."

"House..." Wilson croaked. He felt a lump in his throat. Although House had tried to keep a straight face to mask his emotions, those blue eyes had told him a completely different story. Now, Wilson could see that his own grief had resonated in such a powerful way in his friend that had made House to throw all the caution to the wind and expose himself, just because of him, because he couldn't see him in pain.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he found himself kissing House, needy and raw and passionate. His friend was responding with the same neediness.

When they run out of breath and parted for so much needed air, they locked gazes.

"This is a mistake," Wilson whispered.

"It is," House agreed.

However, they kissed again and, then, again and again. There were hands everywhere, clothes being taken off in a rush and discarded without paying heed to where they landed. There was such a desperate need for each other that they couldn't let the other go, they laid together on the bed and rubbed their groins together. No long after, they were laying panting, embraced and totally sated in a mess on that small double bed of the motel.

Wilson smiled and House frowned.

"What are you... smiling at?" House grimaced inwardly as his voice hadn't sounded at all as he had intended. Such a soft, gentle tone didn't fit him.

"I never... took you for... the cuddling type." Wilson's smile had broadened after hearing his friend failing in keep his House-persona.

"Fine," House snapped. He was annoyed at himself, for his post-orgasmic brain was failing him in finding the appropriate snarks. He opted for trying to disentangle himself from Wilson.

"But I like it," Wilson said with tenderness while tightening his embrace. His friend made a feeble attempt to remove himself, but Wilson could see it was more pig-headedness than the real desire to be apart. When House sighed and surrendered to the embrace, Wilson inwardly whooped a victory: feelings had won over reason.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They stayed embraced like that a long time, neither man wanting to leave the warm embrace. But, after a while, they started to feel uncomfortable and itchy because of the dried cum on their lower abdomens.

"I'm going to take a shower," Wilson said while remorsefully disentangling himself from his friend. "Do you want to join me?" He smiled suggestively.

"I don't have the desire to see you at your most girlish, with all those products you use for your hair," House mocked, although Wilson could hear the longing in his voice. It wasn't so obvious, but they had been friends for too long so as not to be able to catch the subtle nuances of their voices. So, Wilson deduced that House wanted to, but something else that the diagnostician didn't want to acknowledge was preventing House to join him in the shower. He had a good idea about what could be the problem.

As for the diagnostician, although he had been trying for long to resist acting upon his physical attraction towards Wilson, he had surprisingly found that he didn't regret at all what had just happened. His leg seemed to think otherwise, however. It was not only the activity in which they had engaged, but also that, in the heat of the moment, he had forgotten to take his morning pills. Now, his leg was getting its revenge. He was going to give Wilson some other excuse when a hand with two pills appeared in front of him at the same time that the mattress dipped.

Wilson was looking at him with some concern. Sometimes, he forgot about House's leg. He knew that House preferred it that way, but when planning or doing things, he knew he shouldn't. They were doing this because of him, it was his bucket list, but that didn't mean that they had to forget House and his issues. Wilson loved him. There was no way to deny that. Now they had made love (although, God forbid him to say those exact words to House, for he would mock him endlessly). It was because of that love that he wanted to keep his friend, now lover, in as little pain as he could.

Wilson had noticed that House had been trying to hide his own pain more than before, and that he was denying being in pain when it was obvious for Wilson that he was. That behavior saddened Wilson, because now he could understand him quite well. After the chemo stunt, he had finally understood what House had gone through all these years and had promised himself not to lecture his friend anymore about him taking Vicodin. In fact, he had wanted House to share about his pain, so he could show him the same caring his friend had shown him back in his apartment. The diagnostician seemed determined to dismiss his own pain as inconsequential, perhaps due to what Wilson was facing. That made the oncologist furious. He wanted to be part of House's life for the short period that was left of his own. Now, more than ever. Being part of House's life included being involved in House's pain. He wouldn't want it any other way. If he could only make his lover understand that!

"We can take a bath, if you prefer." Wilson pinned House with a look that clearly stated _don't shut me out like that, not after what we have just shared._

"I'm not sure we'll both fit in there, Jimmy." House had the grace to appear apologetic and, Wilson noted that, for once, he had said his childhood name with clear affection in his voice.

Looking towards the bathroom, he realized that House was right. They were two grown men and the size of the tub was in tune with that of the bed.

"Okay, I'll take a quick shower and then you can enjoy a bath for as long as you want," Wilson said, a bit disappointed, before leaning down and softly kissing his friend on his lips. To his credit, House didn't made a snarky comment at that. He just smiled at Wilson and looked pointedly to the bathroom.

"Go. Shower," he told his friend with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

Of course, that dismissal didn't mean that he didn't look appreciatively to Wilson's ass while he went to the bathroom. Was it just him, or was his friend swaying his hips more than was needed for the sake of walking? He smiled and closed his eyes, his thoughts straying to the next night and to what he intended to do with that sweet ass. For once, he was grateful for the Vicodin, as he could linger in such thoughts and bask in them without getting aroused.

When the sound of the shower stopped, House got up from the bed and went to the bathroom. Once in there, he kissed Wilson passionately before getting in the tub. Wilson lingered a few more minutes in the bathroom, looking intently at House, who was making an effort to appear unfazed under the scrutiny of his friend's gaze. The diagnostician was going to snap at him, when Wilson kissed him and whispered in his ear: "Tonight I'm going to kiss every inch of your body, till you can't stand it anymore and you beg me for release." House couldn't suppress an aroused shudder at those words.

"I never beg," House said with the most neutral voice he was able to muster, at the same time that he feigned offense when, in fact, he was delighted of the thoughts and reactions he elicited in his friend.

"We'll see," Wilson said playfully before getting out of the bathroom.

House closed his eyes and relaxed in the warm water while an uncharacteristically wide smile graced his features.

Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom and found Wilson looking through the window of the motel room. Smiling, Wilson turned to look at House.

"How did you sleep tonight?" Wilson asked. House faintly blushed and looked away. It didn't mattered that they had shared heated love-making, House felt embarrassed at acknowledging that being in that bed with him had provoked such reactions that had made hard for him to sleep.

"Well..." House trailed off, not knowing how to answer.

"Don't tell me that you're turning shy on me," Wilson joked, seeing the discomfort in House.

"No, I prefer to turn you on," House said while showing a sly smile, but Wilson could see some uncertainty in his friend's eyes.

Wilson's smile broadened at that, and House knew things were okay between them. He felt relieved. Nothing had changed; everything they already had was still there. There was nothing lacking because they had added sex to the relationship. A big step, but that had only added more meaning, without taking anything away. He limped towards his now lover, and when their bodies were almost touching, House wrapped his left arm around his waist and kissed him. He realized that, now that the wall between them had crumbled, he wanted nothing more than to kiss Wilson into oblivion.

"So, how did you sleep tonight?" Wilson asked again when they parted the kiss.

"I didn't sleep a lot... it was..." Still attached to Wilson's waist, House searched for words, "A bit awkward at the beginning... it took me a long time to fall asleep."

Wilson looked at House with tenderness, knowing that such frankness had to cost a lot to his now-lover.

"Would you mind it much if we spent one more night in this room?" Wilson asked, the uncertainty clearly tinging his voice. "I know I told you yesterday night that..." House silenced Wilson by kissing him.

"Forget yesterday. I prefer remember this morning." House gave Wilson a lewd gaze. Wilson laughed at his friend's antics. "I'm sure you'll find a good way to _relax_ me tonight so I can sleep."

"Certainly. Then, what do you say? I've started to like this bed," Wilson said playfully.

"But not the sheets," House grimaced, looking at the mess created on them.

"That can be helped with the room service, don't you think?"

"Damn right." House grinned. "And God help them if they don't change them, because this night I'm going to do you a lot more than just grinding my cock with yours."

Wilson let go a pleasured shudder at the thought of what his friend had in mind for him later that night.

"House..." Wilson trailed unsure of making his next request. "Look, I know you didn't have a great time when we were at the river yesterday, but..."

"You want to go again today," House finished for him. He showed a half-smile, half-smirk that Wilson found intriguing. "Come on, Jimmy. You should know it by now: you want it, you have it."

"House, this is as much my trip as it is yours," Wilson said somewhat exasperated. "You should have a word in it, too."

"And I have it, of course." At the doubtful look that Wilson threw towards him, he added: "By letting you choose whatever you want we to do."

House tightened his embrace on Wilson's waist, flushing their bodies together even more and whispered in his friend's ear with a rough voice.

"The river it is, then. I'm not going to swim with you, but I refuse to be held accountable for whatever it can happen there if you put on the same show you did yesterday in front of me," House said, the want written on all of his features, but, at the same time, feeling a bit embarrassed at acknowledging that he had some reactions at the river that Wilson had been oblivious to.

Wilson looked at him puzzled, but, an instant later, a wide grin was plastered on his face. He laughed heartily.

"Oh, my God! That's why you bolted out when I was taking off my underwear. You were aroused and you didn't want me noticing. And that's why you went straight to the bathroom when we arrived here, you didn't have a piss at the river."

He laughed delighted again. Knowing he had caused such a reaction on his seemingly unflappable friend was exhilarating. More than that, it made him feel sexy.

Still linked to his friend by the arm around his waist, Wilson closed the little gap between them and kissed him passionately.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a teaser. The next fic in this series is "We should marry"


End file.
